


Feel Her

by jashinist_feminist



Category: Naruto
Genre: Blindfolds, Caught, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Married Couple, Married Sex, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-14 15:04:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18054800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jashinist_feminist/pseuds/jashinist_feminist
Summary: Fugaku is tired and weary from his duties as clan head. But his wife Mikoto knows exactly how to help him relax...and make him forget everything...





	Feel Her

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born from a running gag in all my Uchiha-focused fics...that Fugaku is actually a sub and Mikoto is a dom. XD
> 
> This is quite a light dom/sub fic, as I only recently posted a very hardcore femdom fic with hidakona, and I wanted to focus more on a loving&trusting encounter between a married couple with kids, since these relationships are usually forgotten about. Fugaku&Mikoto don't get so much attention as a pairing, despite being canon, and so I thought I would correct that XD
> 
> There's a few mention of some of my Uchiha hcs...can you spot them? I kind of wanted to explore some of those themes and how Mikoto rules Fugaku from behind the scenes XD
> 
> I took the prompt 'Her' from the Naruto Rare Pair Spring Kink Meme 2019, and wove in elements of other prompts which inspired me. Have a guess what they are XD

He could feel his eyes straining.

It wasn’t just his eyes. There was an aching tension in his shoulders, the small of his back, and even the joints of his knees, where he hunched over his desk, scrawling down the expenses of the Compound for what felt like the millionth time this week. His ears were ringing from the complaints of his bitterly discontented clansmen, and Fugaku wished he could just block it out. Block them all out, and not have to think. Just feel.

The hour grew late, and the room grew dark. He heard her cooing over their two children, the happy clattering from the kitchen, the gentle prattle of their chatter. And yet Fugaku dare not join them, for he had work to do.

He heard scampering up the stairs of little feet, the gurgling of hot water and then the splashing of the bathtub, and then her soothing voice reading from a children’s book. Then silence, the peck of two kisses, a chorus of ‘I love yous!’ and the closing of a door.

Her footsteps echoed quietly along the hallway, before his study door slid up.

“Hey sweetheart,” her voice cooed, tinged with concern. “You’ve been in here all day. Aren’t you tired? You should rest. I could make you some tea?”

Fugaku turned around to face his wife of several years now gazing at him from the doorway. Her long black hair was loose and about her shoulders, and she was wrapped in a loose yukata.

“I’m still nowhere near finished,” he complained. “I need to rest but I just want this done.”

“I know,” Mikoto moved through the room, light on her feet as always, before settling behind him. Her hands reached out and laid on his shoulders, massaging away the tension. Fugaku gave a deep, relieved sigh. Mikoto always knew how to handle him. Always.

“I should get back to work,” sighed Fugaku, even as he longed to stay as they were.

“No honey, you’re too tired. You can’t even concentrate,” said Mikoto firmly, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. Fugaku leaned against her, inhaling her soft scent of lilac flowers. “You haven’t eaten all day...you’ll feel better once you’ve had something to eat and drink.”

Fugaku reluctantly conceded, and climbed up. Down in the kitchen, he knelt at the table as Mikoto poured the tea and laid some biscuits before him. She laid down at his side as he ate, and even placed her head in his lap. With his free hand, he stroked through her silky black locks that spilled over lap. Their eldest son seemed to have inherited her endlessly silky hair, even if the shade of black was more similar to Fugaku’s.

Fugaku finished the tea and biscuits, and then sighed again. The thought of returning to his papers was very unappealing.

“I should start my work again,” he reluctantly stated. The twinges of fatigue still had not left him, even if the refreshments had lifted his spirits.

“You still seem so tired,” Mikoto rolled onto her back and laid her hand on his cheek, lightly tracing a rhythm with her fingertips.

“I just can’t get it all out my head,” groaned Fugaku. “I don’t want to think.”

Mikoto gazed up at him, her dark eyes soft and glowy. “Shall I make you more tea and biscuits?”

Fugaku glanced down at his wife. “I think I need something stronger than that.”

Mikoto licked her lips. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“The boys,” Fugaku immediately asked. “Are they…?”

“Sleeping like little angels,” replied Mikoto.

Fugaku shook his head. “You would call them angels…”

“They are my little angels!”

“More like little devils,” scolded Fugaku.

“Be quiet, or I really will punish you,” warned Mikoto. She sat upright, and picked up his empty mug and plate, laying it on the kitchen side. She bent back over Fugaku, letting her yukata fall open so that he was treated to the sight of her bare breasts nestling side by side, as she brushed away a stray crumb from his lip. “Our room, I think.”

Fugaku didn’t need to be told twice. Wearily, he hauled himself up to his feet, and reached for Mikoto’s hand. At the bottom of the stairs, he wrapped his arm around her waist, and they made their way up the stairs together.

Their room was their solace away from the world. When they married, Fugaku let Mikoto decorate it and choose how it would look, since he didn’t particularly care for such things. And Mikoto had chosen well, selecting white walls, dark pine furniture, and soft white cotton sheets, topped with red silky sheets and cushions. It had the air of looking airy and relaxing, yet at the same, having a sensual undertone. It was very well-suited to what they had discovered a few weeks into their marriage.

“Take off your shirt,” instructed Mikoto, as soon as she closed the door behind themselves. She blew a katon across the room, lighting the scattered candles. The room was bathed in a low dappling yellow light, casting shadows and highlighting the contours of their bodies.

Fugaku obeyed, untying his shirt and then tucking it inside the laundry basket by the chest of drawers. Mikoto pulled the windows shut, and then quickly peeked out at the rest of the Compound. Apart from Ayako calling for her cats, it was still, and quiet.

Mikoto closed the curtains, and they were alone together.

“Get on the bed,” said Mikoto, her voice low and sensuous.

During their first few sessions in the early days of their marriage, Fugaku had disobeyed Mikoto, to see if she really meant what she said when she told him what to do. He remembered the lashes, struck across his buttocks while he lay across her knees, gritting his teeth and refusing to cry out. It did no good to disobey Mikoto…

Unless being punished was what he wanted.

And sometimes, that was just what he needed. Sometimes, Fugaku just wanted to rebel against the rules, in a safe and secure environment. If he rebelled against the ninja way, he’d be dead on the battlefield in minutes. If he disobeyed the rules of Konoha, his head would be on a dish and served to the rest of the clan as a warning of treason.

But with Mikoto, he could rebel all he want and no harm would come to him.

And sometimes being a good boy was what he wanted, and it was nice to follow someone else’s rules, instead of having to force the strong-willed Uchiha clan to follow his. And in the sanctity of their bedroom, it felt…

Comforting. Safe. Warm.

The limits in here were theirs, and theirs alone.

Tonight, Fugaku was tired. He crawled up on the bed, the mattress sinking comfortably beneath his limbs. He rolled onto his back with a sigh of gratitude, and waited for her.

Mikoto bent below the silken sheets, reaching for the box. They kept their toys and playthings in a plain black box, that was dull and inconspicuous. But once opened, it revealed red satin lining, and a delectable selection of props for their scenes.

Mikoto laid the box on the bed sheets, and clamoured up on the mattress, sitting beside Fugaku. She hummed, opening it up, and rummaging through. She pushed aside the leather collar she gave Fugaku as a one year anniversary present, his pink fluffy handcuffs, his ball-gag, her strap-on, and then pulled out a long strip of red silken robe.

“I always think this goes so nicely with your hair and eyes,” mused Mikoto, laying it against Fugaku’s bare chest. It spilled like blood over his milky white skin, that contrasted with the darker tones of his hair, colouring shared by most of the Uchihas. “And I know you like to be held.”

“I do,” agreed Fugaku, playing with a lock of her black hair. “Especially by you.”

Mikoto’s hands reached in again, and pulled out a matching red silk blindfold. “This too, since I think after staring at all those papers, your eyes could use a break.”

“They could,” nodded Fugaku. It was true. His eyes were swimming with the memory of numbers, letters...it all meant nothing. He wanted to see nothing, and Mikoto somehow always knew what he needed.

Mikoto stared back into the box. “Hmm...I think I’ll leave this out so that while I’m having my wicked way with you I can pull out a few surprises. How would you like that?”

“I’d like that very much,” confessed Fugaku, releasing her hair, instead running his hand along her thigh, lightly pushing up the yukata to reveal more of her tender thigh.

“Then a surprise it will be,” Mikoto confirmed. “Now...safe word? Think of something that’s a turn-off.”

“Danzo.”

Mikoto snorted in unladylike manner. “The last thing I want is to hear you calling out his name during sex.”

Fugaku fingered the red silk of the rope and blindfold. “Perhaps...spaghetti?”

Mikoto giggled. “Spaghetti it is! Now let’s get you into position so you can start relaxing and unwinding. I’ll take good care of you.”

“You always do,” a small smile lit up the corners of Fugaku’s mouth.

Mikoto propped up their pillows and the cushions of their bed, so that Fugaku could recline back with a full view down his body and of Mikoto. She helped him lie back, and then lifted his arms over his head. Her hands moved quickly, winding the rope around his forearms in a criss-cross pattern, before securing it to the bed. The crimson scarlet contrasted with his fair skin in a tantalising pattern, and Mikoto certainly looked pleased with herself.

“Test that,” instructed Mikoto.

Fugaku tugged. The rope felt secure, and he was locked in place. Held tightly, no matter who or what had demands on him, he couldn’t move and attend to them, and they couldn’t move him. He smiled, feeling his worries start to fade.

Mikoto leant over and claimed his lips, her tongue brushing against his. He must have kissed her hundreds of thousands of times by now, but it never grew old. It always felt like the first time, when she pulled him behind a tree in the Compound and demanded his immediate attention. A tiny little kunoichi, yet already holding the rank of jonin, and with several assassinations under her belt. She had tasted of nerve and daring, and something inside Fugaku woke up, something he never knew existed inside of him.

When she broke away, she laid her hands on his cheeks, and gazed into his eyes.

“I just want to get away tonight,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.”

“I can give you that,” she whispered.

She had given him everything, it was true. Mikoto’s machinations had ensured that he claimed the leadership of the Uchiha, passing over her older brother’s claim. He remembered the daring in her eyes as she whispered her plans to him, sneaking into his bedroom in the dead of night, to select him as her accomplice. He remembered how her eyes glinted when they came to fruition...but then the sweet demure look when he brought her to meet his parents, and the way she played the shy blushing bride beneath her white kimono.

Mikoto tugged at the tie on her yukata, pulling it off to reveal her naked form. Fugaku took an intake of breath, like he always did when he saw her naked. Her body had changed in the years they had been together, her hard abdominal muscles being enveloped by a round pregnant belly within a few years, and then another a few years later.

Nowadays she was rather soft around the middle, decorated with a few silvery lines that Itachi and Sasuke had drawn together. Her breasts, once firm and perky, had gently sagged and her once pale-pink nipples had become darker and rosier from feeding both of the boys.

Fugaku loved her regardlessly. Her body told the story of their marriage, and it was beautiful.

Mikoto tossed the yukata in the direction of the washing basket, and then bent back over, drawing him into a kiss. Fugaku felt her breasts pressed against his bare chest, and badly wanted to touch them and feel the satin smooth skin of her body. His hands ached, knowing he could not, but that was part of the pleasure. He felt her silky hair fall across his cheek, and inhaled the scene of her perfume deeply. It was one he had bought her, one that he knew was a long time favourite of hers.

“Enough of that,” said Mikoto, breaking away from the kiss, her lips swollen and reddened. He hands ran down his torso, to his groin. “Now, I want to see you naked.”

Fugaku watched as she unbuckled his trousers, and tugged them down his legs. The cool air kissed his loins, which increased in interest as Mikoto writhed about the mattress like a little minx, like she had always been. He remembered their first few encounters together, unwrapping her from her bridal clothing, holding her smaller frame within his hold, hearing her beating heart against his.

That wasn’t quite the first time they had been together. When Mikoto snuck into his house and his room to whisper her plans to take the leadership of the clan together, there were other things that she enticed him to do. Fugaku’s mouth went dry when he remembered the devious look in her eyes as she slipped below his bedcovers and took him with her mouth.

Mikoto gave a smirk of approval, as her eyes washed over his body and noticed his erection. Fugaku’s body didn’t quite tell so much of a story as hers did. He was still firm and toned from remaining as an active and deadly shinobi, the leader of his clan and the Uchiha Police Force. But he had started to notice that he was going pouchy around the middle, and there was a collection of scars, including a scar above his buttocks from where Sasuke ‘accidentally’ sent a stray shuriken in his direction.

Mikoto’s fingers lightly tickled the base of his manhood. Fugaku took a deep intake of breath.

“That is only the beginning,” she warned, and then reached for the blindfold and straddled him. “Time to close your eyes and relax.”

Fugaku obediently closed his eyes, and Mikoto laid the cloth against his eyelids, binding it firmly around his head.

It was relieving, to know that the dojutsu so highly revered by his clan could no longer take any precedence here tonight. He didn’t have to worry about presenting himself as a formidable powerful opponent to anyone, didn’t have to worry about being _Wicked Eye Fugaku_.

Fugaku could relax back in his wife’s embrace, like any other man, and leave his cares aside.

The clan may have belonged to him, and the clan might say Konoha should belong to him, but truly, he belonged to Mikoto.

He felt Mikoto’s body lean across him, reaching for the box. Her fingers rummaged through. Fugaku listened, anticipating, before he heard the click of a lid. There was the sound of her hands slapping together, and then oil-slickened hands laid on his chest, and her hands were everywhere, massaging his shoulders, his arms, back to his shoulders again, down his chest, his belly, his thighs, his-

Fugaku’s breath hitched.

But then her hands were gone. He waited, listening to the sound of the bottle click again. Her hands slapped together, but there was no sensation of her hands on him. And yet there was the sound of oil gliding across skin somewhere, and Fugaku realised.

_She is touching herself._

He imagined it now. Mikoto’s head thrown back, her black hair falling down her shoulders, her body arched. He imagined her dark eyes half-closed with pleasure, her sweet mouth half-open with surprise at the sensation of her own fingers on her glistening skin.

It seemed almost wrong that she was touching herself and he wasn’t helping.

“Mikoto, dear…” Fugaku called out. “Are you sure I can’t...help you with that?”

“No, dear,” replied Mikoto. “You don’t need to do anything. Just lie back, and imagine me.”

The thought of the oil glistening on that lily-white skin was almost unbearable, the thought of her tender hands trailing across her body, touching all her most intimate parts…

Fugaku swallowed, and his chest heaved. “But I want-”

“Yes?”

“I want us…”

“Say it louder.”

“I want you to touch me,” confessed Fugaku.

“Only I can decide that,” replied Mikoto. Fugaku swallowed, praying that she would extend an olive branch of mercy. “What’s the word that you say?”

“Please?” offered Fugaku.

“Please what?”

“Please, my darling,” said Fugaku.

“As you wish.”

Fugaku felt Mikoto lean over, and then kiss his lips. True to her word, her hands laid on his chest, her thumbs running across his nipples. Fugaku felt them grow taunt with interest, and his breath hitched. He could imagine the steely look in her dark eyes, as she decided what she wanted to do to him next. He felt Mikoto press herself against him, the slickened oil causing their skin to glide together, holding his chin with her finger as she claimed his lips.

She was lying in his arms, and yet she was not. Fugaku couldn’t put his arms around her, even if he wanted to. Mikoto darted elusively out of reach. He tugged at his restraints, remembering that he was put into place for a reason. And yet he still want to touch her, to run his hands along her sweet oil coated figure, squeeze those soft breasts, play with her nipples and roll the teats beneath his fingertips.

“Mikoto…”

“Yes, dear?”

“I want…”

“What do you want? Careful not to be too demanding…”

“I want to hold you,” Fugaku confessed to the air.

“Not now, dear,” Mikoto laid another kiss on his lips. “That can wait until the end. I’m not done with you. We’re not even started.”

Her hands reached up, and Fugaku felt the tied rope loosened. He tugged at the restraints around his wrist, but they remained intact. Instead, he felt Mikoto lift his arms up, maneuvering him into a new position.

“Get on your knees,” ordered Mikoto. “I want you on all fours.”

Fugaku flipped over, and knelt on all fours, as she commanded. His ears pricked, as he heard her reach over to the box and grasp something, but he couldn’t be sure what it was. There was a pat, as it fell on the bed. Fugaku swallowed in anticipation. He heard the pop of the bottle, and Mikoto dragged her hands down his back, repeating her massage from earlier.

Fugaku gave a loud, relieved groan, and then gasped with surprise when her hands massaged both of his buttocks. “Hey!”

“But I thought you liked this,” Mikoto sang innocently.

“You are a cheeky madam…” Fugaku’s words were lost as she spread his cheeks wide.

“A cheeky madam? You’re a bad boy, more like,” replied Mikoto. “I’ll do as I please to punish my bad boy.”

Fugaku shivered, the words sending arousal down his spine. He tilted his head back, arching his back with pleasure. “Are you going to peg me?”

“I can if you like,” offered Mikoto, lightly running her finger in a single line between his buttocks. The oil on her hand slipped over his entrance, and Fugaku gasped.

It felt nice, but tonight, Fugaku wasn’t in the mood to be pegged. He wanted to relax, to unwind, to forget.

“I just want to let go,” he replied.

“As you say, dear,” Mikoto’s hand dragged along the silken sheets, before picking up whatever she had laid out.

Fugaku waited with bated breath to find out what it was, and then gasped when he felt something soft tickling the soles of his feet. It felt feathery and light, but he still could not tell what it was. And then it was gone, and Fugaku only had the memory to work from.

It tickled again, this time on the inside of his thigh. Fugaku shivered, and then it disappeared again, before reappearing on the side, beneath his arm. And then it was there, on the opposite side of his body, before Mikoto trailed it along his spine. It was all that he could think about, trying to imagine what it was, and where it was going next.

“Does that feel good, honey?” asked Mikoto.

“Yes,” admitted Fugaku.

She lightly tickled it against his buttocks.

“Hey!” he protested yet again.

“Oh, don’t we like that?” tutted Mikoto. “Maybe then you will like this better.”

There was a crack in mid-air, and then Fugaku cried out as he felt the spank of a switch.

“Sssh, our baby boys are asleep,” warned Mikoto, tickling his spine. “Or I’ll have to punish you harder.”

“At this rate, we’ll end up with another one,” replied Fugaku. His erection throbbed painfully, the tickling play only incencing his body further.

“That’s such a sweet idea,” agreed Mikoto. “But you disobeyed me. I said be quiet.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” said Fugaku.

“Sorry won’t do anymore. I’ll have to teach you a lesson,” said Mikoto firmly.

Fugaku heard the brandishing of her switch, and then the slap against his buttocks. This time he did not cry out, but instead gave a low moan of pleasure and sagged against the pillows.

“Did you like your lesson?” asked Mikoto.

“Another,” Fugaku groaned into the pillow.

“Another?”

“Yes…” Fugaku whimpered.

When she struck him, all Fugaku could think about was the waiting and anticipation of her hits, not the external demands on him. It was freeing, to give up that power and pressure that came as clan head, and hand it over to Mikoto instead. She had always wielded power well, after all. He remembered the days they sparred together, he one of the clan’s most promising jonin, she the younger daughter of the current clan head and a jonin herself, kunais clashing, dark eyes flashing, until they were both locked in a hold together, neither able to concede, until Fugaku finally could take it no longer, and sank to the floor, as she knelt over him and pressed the tip of the knife to his throat.

That was when he realised what and who he was, and what and who she was. And why they needed to be together, all the things they could accomplish standing by each other’s side.

Another spank, and Fugaku sighed with relief.

Her hands were at his neck, wrapping into his hair, wrenching it back.

“Have you learnt your lesson for disobeying me?” asked Mikoto, her lips whispering against his ear. She lightly nipped at the lobe of his ear with the teeth, and Fugaku shivered again.

“Y-yes,” Fugaku gasped out, the pain on his head from the tugging of his hair being all that he could focus on.

“Good,” Mikoto’s hands soothed away the firey lashes across his globes, the remaining oil on her hands cool and gentle. Fugaku sighed, and relaxed back. The ache in his eyes was no longer, and instead all he could see was blissful darkness. All he had to do was lie back, and feel, and enjoy. He just had to listen, and do what she said.

He felt Mikoto tugging at the rope again, and this time, she flipped him back over on his back. He felt her hands reach for his limbs, positioning him so that he was spread out for easy access. Immediately, he began to wonder what she had planned. Perhaps she would continue to massage and play with his body as she pleased. Or perhaps she would take him by her hand, or pleasure him with her mouth. The possibilities were endless, and the anticipation made his breath catch in his throat.

She had always made him feel like this. And when Fugaku felt like this, he couldn’t think of anything else. All he could do was put himself in her hands, and trust whatever decision she made. There was no other person who could have this effect on him.

“You said you didn’t want to think about anything else,” said Mikoto. Fugaku felt her straddle him, her legs astride his waist, and her fingertips lightly pressed on his shoulders for balance. “And all I want is for you to think about me.”

“Yes…” whispered Fugaku. “I want that too…”

Mikoto clamoured further up his body. “I’m going to ride you,” she announced. “Bury your face inside of me.”

“Gosh...yes…” Fugaku whispered. Either side of his cheeks, he felt the soft plush of her thighs tickle him. He could smell her sex, feel the soft silky tickling his nose. He tilted back his head, letting Mikoto settle on top of him, and gave her pussy a long, luxurious lick.

She tasted salty-sweet, and delectable. Fugaku swallowed, loving the feel of her body on his tongue like this. His tongue lapped over her clit, and he could just imagine her now, her head thrown back, the candlelight flickering over the sheen of her skin. It seemed such a beautiful sight. He wanted to touch her, to clench her hips as she rode him, run his hands along her tender skin, squeeze the soft parts of her body and admire and worship every inch of her.

Fugaku broke away.

“You are perfect,” he gasped out.

The word could barely convey what he felt for his wife, but it would have to do. All that he could think about was Mikoto, which was what he had wanted. Her scent, her feel, her taste...it flooded him. Blinded behind the crimson tie, all he could think about was how her body must look…

“I know,” said Mikoto. Her breath was hitched as she spoke, and so Fugaku knew he was doing a good job.

He swallowed, pleased with himself.

“Back to work, I think,” instructed Mikoto, reaching down for his head, pulling him back up to lap at her. “Or maybe I will have to punish you again…”

Fugaku complied, not wanting to lose the delicious treat of being buried between her thighs. His erection strained, but he tried not to focus on it for now. He just wanted to please Mikoto. She did everything for him and their family, and deserved spoiling.

He sucked her clit into his mouth, and heard her sighs of pleasure. He repeated the motion, and Mikoto’s breathes rapidly increased. Fugaku worked harder, wanting to give her what she truly deserved. Her thighs clenched around his face, and his air supply cut off. Willingly, Fugaku buried his face into her flesh, determined to make her come before he passed out.

Mikoto cried out, and reared back, freeing his face. Fugaku gasped in sucks of breath, his cheeks flushed red. He panted, regaining his breath, as Mikoto fought for hers.

“Now,” said Mikoto, and Fugaku imagined her chest heaving, her nipples pointing to the air. “Now...as a reward...for being such a good boy...it’s time to let go.”

There was another click, and then oil trickled over his erection. Fugaku didn’t bother to hide his groan of pleasure at the cool liquid running down the undershaft. Mikoto’s hand clamped around the base, claiming him, and rolled both of his balls beneath her palm in her other hand. She squeezed the base again, working her way up to the tender, sensitive tip.

Her second hand wrapped around the tip, with her thumb brushing over the slit. Fugaku practically squeaked, and this time Mikoto giggled. Fugaku laughed too. It was funny. He never usually showed his emotions, but this was Mikoto, and he could. Together, they could laugh, they could cry, they could even rage, if the occasion called for it. And yet Fugaku secretly hoped that wouldn’t be for a long while, and that they could instead enjoy their life together, watching their boys grow up into handsome young men, even as he warned and prepared them for shinobi life. He wanted them to be strong. Strong, so they could be safe.

All of the tension caught in his body and joints travelled down to his groin, ready to be released. Mikoto’s hand rubbed back and forth expertisely, knowing all the spots that drove him wild. Fugaku fought against the restraints as the waves of intense tingling caught him. He needed to lash out, but he couldn’t, and so against the rope he tugged. He grit his teeth, trying not to make a sound, but Mikoto was just so good, she knew exactly how to please him, there was nothing he wouldn't do for her, whatever she said, he would do, he didn't care what, whether it was in bed or in politics, he would give anything for Mikoto to give him that release...

Fugaku shouted out as he spurted over her hands. His whole body wracked and heaved, and then he slumped, limp against the pillows.

He barely registered the sound of Mikoto wiping her hands dry with a muslin cloth, before she reached up and pushed up the blindfold. The first thing Fugaku saw with his rejuvenated eyes was her rumpled hair, lidded eyes, and swollen lips, and the low candlelight around them room.

“You did so well,” she cooed. “Don’t you feel better?”

“Yes,” replied Fugaku, his voice returning to normal.

Mikoto kissed his lips, and pulled away the blindfold entirely. She reached for another cloth, and dabbing away the oil from their bodies. Fugaku was content to lie back and watch her, his muscles thrumming as if he were drunk.

Slowly, she unpicked the restraints, and Fugaku sat up, flexing his arms. There was a criss-cross of lines over his forearms, and he wondered drily how he was going to explain that to the rest of the Uchiha Police Force.

Oh well. It didn’t matter. He could deal with them in the morning. They didn’t have a wife like Mikoto, after all. If they passed any comment...then most certainly, they were jealous. And tonight, he wanted to rest and hold his beautiful wife in his arms.

Mikoto tucked away their toys and props in the black box, and then slid them under the bed for safekeeping. She pulled away the ruined silk sheet and stashed it in the washing pile, while Fugaku clamoured under the covers, snuggling down into the warmth. He pulled down the covers on the other side of the bed for her, and patted it gently.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll take over the paperwork,” announced Mikoto, clamouring beneath the blankets, and pulling them up to her chest. “It stresses you out too much, dear, and you know I’m more than capable. Besides, I have decisions of my own I want to make.”

Fugaku could only nod in response.

“And the boys would love to spend some time with their father,” added Mikoto, raising her eyebrows.

“I should definitely spend more time with them,” admitted Fugaku. He felt a sting of disappointment with himself, for getting so worked up over clan duties, when he could delegate them to someone even more competent and focus on the two little boys who mattered the most. Things needed to change around here.

Mikoto reached over and squeezed his shoulder, offering him a smile, reminding him that together they were a team. They had just nestled down in bed, and were leaning over to give one another a goodnight kiss, when there was a small voice from the doorway.

“Mum? Dad?”

Fugaku’s heart plummeted to the bottom of his stomach, while Mikoto drew a sharp intake of breath.

Itachi’s dark eyes scanned over both of his parents.

“Why are you naked?”

**Author's Note:**

> ^^^ and that is how Itachi woke up his Mangekyo Sharingan! :D


End file.
